


Put On Your Dancing Shoes

by Loubrator



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Harry is a swimmer, Louis was a dancer, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 13:29:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4393691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loubrator/pseuds/Loubrator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I will dance for you!” he almost shouts, making people look at them. Louis shushes him quickly, throwing apologetic glances at the customers in the establishment.</p><p>“Harry, be quiet,” Louis scolds as he receives a rather unimpressed look from the waitress. “Besides, what are you even on about?”</p><p>“I will dance for you!” Harry exclaims again, as if that would explain everything Louis didn’t understand before. “I’ll go to that competition and win the medal in your name, Louis!”</p><p>Louis’ first reaction is to fond over Harry for like five seconds, before bursting out laughing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put On Your Dancing Shoes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cruellouelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruellouelle/gifts).



> Here’s the thing I’ve been working on for the past 7 months, and I’m so glad I get to finally post it!
> 
> I want to dedicate this to the amazing  Danny who gave me the idea and helped me continue when I was stuck, ur the best, girl!
> 
> Also the biggest thank you to Scarlett  for being the loveliest and fastest beta anyone could ask for, much love !!! 
> 
> And last but not least, thank you to Jojo, Tristan and C for putting up with my rants while writing this, you are great for enduring it all.
> 
> Without further ado, I’ll let you get started on the reading, and as always, kudos and comments are super appreciated! 
> 
> Enjoy! Xxx.

_One step right, and two steps ahead, small jump, then turn._

_Once again: one step right, and two steps ahead, small jump, then turn._

_Louis tried to memorize the new steps Mrs. Stojmenova showed the kids that day, and although he loved the flow of the choreography, he couldn’t quite get the transition from one part to another right._

_He got the turn, the arms in the air, the weird hand motions—but he always fucked up when he had to take a step to the right. He practiced it over and over and over._

_“C’mon,” he thought to himself, “you’ve been dancing for eight years now, and you’ve always gotten every step right. Concentrate, Tomlinson.”_

_So he did. He repeated the steps again and again, proud of himself where he stood alone in the small dance studio as he finally,_ fuckingfinally _, succeeded in making all of the steps correctly._

_As he went to try it out one last time, just to make sure he’d really got it all, he stumbled after making the small jump and his foot bent over uncomfortably, making him fall over with a pained cry leaving his lips._

_Louis clutched his foot as tears streamed down his face. He had no idea what to do; he was alone in the studio. He screamed for help, once, twice, before the door burst open and in ran Mrs. Stojmenova, a worried look on her face._

_Louis doesn’t remember what happens next. He doesn’t know if he passed out, or if he just purposefully blocked all that was happening from his mind. He only remembers the surgeries—thousands of them, it seemed—and the words: “You won’t be able to dance again,” leaving the doctor’s mouth._

_His life kind of stopped, after that._

_He didn’t really want to do anything anymore. He locked himself in his room and only played video games. Louis didn’t want to study, or go out; he didn’t even want to eat three meals a day._

_The thing he had enjoyed most was ripped away from him, and there was no way he could fix it._

Louis sighs sadly as he remembers that dark time on his way to the old dance studio. He was fifteen back then, and seven years have passed, but he will never get used to the sting deep in his chest when he remembers how much passion he used to have for dancing, and how all of that was taken away from him in mere seconds.

His mum was always talking about how happy he should be to be able to walk, but he just rolled his eyes and told her she was overreacting. Maybe she wasn’t _—_ Louis couldn’t tell. He just knows that he wants to be back at the studio; to the polished hardwood floor, to the moves... That’s all he’s ever wished for.

He’s heading to the studio because a good friend of his, Liam, is taking part in a breakdance slash Hip-Hop battle, and Louis wouldn’t miss it for the world. Even though he envies Liam sometimes _—_ when he tells him about how practice is going and what moves they have learned _—_ he’s happy that Liam didn’t give up on it, even though Hip Hop had been Louis’ hobby for the past few years as well.  He liked to watch his mate’s dancing, and give him advice on improving his skills. Louis used to be the best in that area, after all.

Nobody could reach his level, back then. _Back then._

 

When he finally finds a parking spot in front of the building, he gets in quickly, wanting to snatch a place to sit before all the seats were taken. It had happened often enough in the past, and he had had to stand on the side to watch the performances, with a horrible pain in his right foot and leg.

So that’s why, when he hurries past the people standing in the huge doorway of the entrance, he bumps into somebody. Not just somebody _—_ it’s a man, very muscular it seems (because even the collision hurt a little), and he is definitely taller than Louis. Louis doesn’t have time to register it at first, though, because he feels himself falling and before that can happen, he grabs onto the nearest thing at that moment, and that happens to be the man’s shirt...which Louis pulls.

He pulls so hard that the buttons of the guy’s flannel rip open completely, sending them shooting across the room. Louis manages to stay on his feet, but only barely, and only because the guy is gripping his forearm tightly.

When he can stand upright again, Louis lets go of the guy’s shirt and looks up into his face and _—holy shit._

_Holy fucking shit._

This guy is _hot._

Not only hot, but _absolutely breathtakingly pretty._

Louis is out of words, but just for a second, because the guy is speaking in his _unbelievably deep voice._ “Y’alright there, mate?”

Louis blinks up at him and as soon as he registers what just happened, a rosy blush spreads over his cheeks and down his neck, and _wow,_ it’s _really_ hot in here. Louis nods shortly, before deciding to keep his cool. Or at least try to _—_ which isn’t that easy, if you must know.

“Yeah, I’m all good, thanks. Your shirt, though” _—_ he points to the ripped material the boy is wearing _—_ “is anything but. I’m really sorry about that.”

He bites his lip and widens his eyes, trying to look cute and innocent, because it always works on Zayn when he accidentally gets the clothes he absolutely _did not steal_ out of Zayn’s closet dirty. Zayner always forgives him. Good friend, he is.

The guy in front of Louis only laughs, his dimples showing _—fucking dimples—_ and shakes his head. “Nah, it’s okay. It was cheap, out of a thrift store. Can’t expect much quality, eh?”

And the way he says it; so genuinely careless, as if Louis didn’t just practically undress him in a public place... it makes Louis like him a lot. He needs to keep the conversation going. _Oh God_.

“Yeah, but still,” he insists, being blatantly obvious about his ridiculous flirting, “I really want to make it up to you…”

“Harry.”

_Oh. What a pretty name._

Louis smiles softly. “Harry, let me take you out for a coffee. You know, for saving me from falling and breaking my spine.”

Harry beams at that, and Louis takes it as a success. He had doubts about whether Harry swung his way, if he was being honest, but he wouldn’t get embarrassed even if it didn’t turn out that way. Those times of insecure little Louis were over.

“Alright.” Harry chuckles. “After the show?”

“After the show.” Louis smiles, and he and Harry smile at each other one last time before excusing themselves and going their separate ways.

“Holy fucking shit,” Louis murmurs as he sees Liam a few minutes later, the other boy giving him a confused look.

“What?”

“Your outfit. It looks…” He’s silent for a few moments, trying to think of a word other than disastrous, or hideous, even. “It looks interesting,” he decides to say, which is much more polite than the first two choices, right?

“What’s so interesting about it?” Liam asks with a pout, looking down at himself. He is wearing baggy jeans and a white t-shirt, which is clearly too big on him. Tied around his head is a red bandana, and his sneakers have seen better days. _Seriously, why the hell is he wearing that?_

And Louis wouldn’t be Louis if he wasn’t a dick most times. “Well, the ugliness is quite interesting, if I’m being honest.” He bursts out laughing and immediately gets punched in his arm. Totally worth it, he tells himself. The look on Liam’s face is just priceless.

“What are you talking about? They gave me this and said I should wear it. It matches the stuff the rest of my crew is wearing.” He seems to be taking it all a little too seriously.

“Mate, hate to break it to ya,” Louis says, laughter still in his voice, “but you look like Eminem did in 2002. Maybe change the shirt, yeah? A nice flannel, perhaps?”

Liam grumbles and walks off, no doubt going to change the shirt like Louis has advised him to. Louis was doing it for Liam’s own good, honestly. He goes into the hall and takes a free seat in the middle row, and while he waits for the performance to start, he spots Harry in the sea of people. He looks really adorable, Louis must admit, trying to let all of the people through to their seats, but eventually seeming a little irritated and furrowing his eyebrows. Absolutely adorable.

When Liam and his crew come on, Louis springs up and starts cheering immediately, ignoring the weird glances he gets from some of the people in the audience. Seriously, why bother going to a _dance battle_ if the only thing you’re going to be doing is acting uptight and sitting there in silence. Louis couldn’t understand those people. He furrows his eyebrows as he sees Harry standing and whistling loudly. So Harry has a friend in the crew, too. What a bloody coincidence!

As always, Liam’s moves are brilliant and fluid, and Louis is very proud of him. So proud that he doesn’t sit down for a while but keeps standing so he can cheer louder and be noticed better, even though his leg started to hurt like twenty minutes ago. Louis was going to make that sacrifice for Liam, a little pain be damned.

After the show, Louis walks backstage as soon as he can so he wouldn’t drown in the crowd since he can’t walk as fast as others. Greeting a few familiar faces and making small talk while passing, he suddenly stops when he sees Liam chatting with Harry. Harry from before the show. Well, alright then.

Louis skips over to them and when Harry spots him, his face lights up like the 4th of July. As Liam notices Harry’s change of facial expression, he turns around and sees Louis approaching them, a smile on his face.

“Lou, hey!” Liam greets. “Did you like the show?” Louis is now standing next to them, and he smiles at his best friend. Louis knows how much Liam values his opinion, and he does feel honored to be something like his idol. Liam’s words, not Louis’. He’s not conceited, after all.

“I liked it a lot; as always, Li.” He spares Harry a glance and sees that the smile hasn’t fallen from the green eyed boy’s face. “Who’s your friend?” he asks, eyes never leaving Harry’s.

“Oh yeah, um, this is my buddy Harry. I know him from Uni. Harry, this is _—_ ”

“Louis,” Harry finishes for him, extending his hand for Louis to shake, _again._ “Nice to see you again.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Harry.” Louis smiles with a mischievous glint in his eye. He ignores Liam’s puzzled look for now and shakes Harry’s hand, holding it a second too long.

Liam coughs uncomfortably. “So, uh… You know each other, then?”

Harry looks at him and smiles, nodding his head. “Yeah. We met not too long ago, actually!”

Louis smiles and nods along to the conversation, and after a little bit of chit-chat about the performance, Liam excuses himself in order to talk to some other people.

“ _Soooo_ ,” Harry drawls, making Louis chuckle.

“So?”

“I remember you mentioning something about making it up to me because of my ripped shirt…” Harry says, going for nonchalant and failing miserably, making Louis chuckle.

“That I did, young Harold.” Louis smiles, and leads the way to the exit.

“Young Harold? C’mon, I can’t be that much younger than you.” Harry laughs, following Louis to his car. Louis knows exactly where he’ll take him to.

“Well, tell me your age and we’ll see.”

“Twenty.”

 _Hm, twenty. Not bad,_ Louis tells himself, _the boy’s barely a teenager anymore._

“Twenty-two meself.” Louis replies as he opens the car door for Harry to get in, and when he takes a seat in the driver’s seat, he looks over to find Harry smirking at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” Harry grins and looks straight ahead as Louis starts the car. “Just, you’re only two years older, and such a gentleman.”

Louis barks out a surprised laugh; Harry’s attempts at cheeky flirting are a little too obvious, but he keeps his mouth shut. “If you only knew,” Louis mumbles and pulls out of his parking spot, heading to the café.

*

“This is the most hipster place I’ve ever been in,” says Harry as they enter the small coffee shop Louis’ sister always visits. He’s been dragged here on more than one occasion, unfortunately.

“That’s why I brought you here _—_ figured you’d feel quite at home.” Louis smirks. Harry looks at him with his hand on his chest, pretending to be offended.

“And why exactly would you think such things?”

Louis snorts. This boy is ridiculous. “Your flannel, for one. Those weird tattoos look very… hipster chic, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hipster chic?” Harry wonders as he sits down on a sofa near the counter, Louis following.

“I made that up just now.”

“Oh really?” Harry laughs as he picks up the menu, skimming it shortly. “What’ll you have, Lou?”

Louis’ eyes go wide at the nickname. People do call him Lou—all the time actually _—_ but hearing it in Harry’s deep voice does things to Louis. He likes how the name rolls off Harry’s tongue casually.

“Dunno, probably a cuppa Yorkshire tea. What? I don’t just drink _any_ kind; tea’s important!” he defends as soon as he sees Harry’s raised eyebrows, and the younger boy laughs.

“Alright, I’ll have the same as you.”

“Perhaps a muffin as well?”

Harry whines, much to Louis’ surprise.

“Have I… Have I said something wrong?” he asks with his eyebrows raised, looking at Harry curiously.

“Nah.” Harry chuckles a bit nervously. “It’s just that I haven’t eaten sweets in over three months now, and the temptation is very… well, enormous. But I have to say no, thank you.”

Louis furrows his brows. _Please don’t say he got one of those vegan fitness- addicted freaks who would rather starve for days than to eat something unhealthy._

“And… why exactly can’t you eat sweet stuff?” he questions, praying for a reasonable answer.

“I’m in a swimteam,” comes Harry’s reply, and Louis is taken aback, but he can actually totally see that Harry could be speaking the truth. He’s lanky but muscular, a great build with amazing shoulders, and Louis just notices he’s staring when it’s too late. “Admiring my sporty body, are we now?” Harry teases, and Louis would very much like to slap that cocky grin off his face.

“I was trying to figure out how exactly they let _you_ participate in a swimteam,” Louis shoots back, crossing his arms.

“ _Heeeey_ ,” Harry pouts, “what does _that_ mean?”

“Just saying.” Louis smirks as he waves the waitress over. “You almost fell over twice on the way here from the car. You’ve got two left feet. Can’t imagine you’d be any good at swimming.”

Just as the waitress arrives to take their order, Harry whispers across the table, “Why don’t you come watch and find out for yourself?”, and Louis’ words die in his throat.

“Sir?” the young woman asks, and Louis goes beet red. Great, now he’s embarrassed himself. Stupid Harry.

“We’ll have two cups of Yorkshire tea, and a chocolate chip muffin for him, thank you,” Harry interferes easily, the smirk never leaving his lips.

“Smug bastard,” Louis mumbles when he’s sure the lady won’t hear them. “So, where were we?” he asks and hopes Harry will let him change the subject.

He doesn’t _. Of course_ he doesn’t.

“Oh, we were just talking about how you’re gonna come to my swim practice today and let me prove to you how good I am.” Harry smirks, and the suggestive tone makes Louis squirm.

“And what does that have to do with the fact that you’re not allowed to eat that delicious muffin you just ordered for me?” Louis will do anything to distract from the topic at hand.

Harry gives him a look that says _DUH,_ shaking his head lightly. “Gotta stay fit. I can’t allow myself to gain too much weight or fuck up my stamina _—_ which I’ve worked very hard on, I must say.”

Louis gulps at the mention of great stamina and hopes Harry doesn’t notice. “Can’t let that happen, now, can we?” Louis smiles and they fall into silence as their beverages are served to them.

The conversation is light and fun, despite Harry’s lame attempts at joking and Louis’ awkward fond glances. They exchange phone numbers—of course they do—and with a promise of texting him soon, Harry is on his way home.

Louis watches him exit the café and wonders what the hell just happened.

Perhaps it seems like the start of a very weird friendship.

Oh boy, what is he getting himself into?

*

“What you giggling at, Lou?” Liam asks with raised eyebrows as Louis grins down at his phone for what seems like the hundredth time today.

“Huh?” Louis looks up with a lost look in his eyes, causing Liam to roll his.

“You’ve been glued to your phone for the past hour; what’s so interesting?” Zayn asks from where he’s sitting beside Liam on the couch, watching shitty reality TV shows on mute.

Louis wonders when he became part of one of those shows. When he met Harry, probably.

“Oh nothing.” He shrugs. “Just texting Harry.”

 _“Harry?”_ Liam asks surprised. “You two talking?”

Louis gets a bit uncomfortable all of a sudden. It’s not like Zayn and Liam aren’t his absolute best friends in the whole wide world, it’s just that he doesn’t want them to know how hooked Harry’s got him after only one date—if you could even call it a date.

“Uhm, yeah, a bit,” is what he settles for. He should’ve been prepared for Zayn’s teasing, though. He really should have been.

“Awww, does our little boobear have the hots for Harold Styles? How _cute!_ ” He laughs, and Louis would gladly want to hit him with a pillow, but he’s too lazy to retrieve one. Zayn’s a lucky bastard.

“I don’t, thank you very much,” Louis huffs with a childish pout on his face. “He just happens to be funny sometimes.”

Liam snorts so loudly Louis gets worried for the wellbeing of his face.

“Harry isn’t _funny!_ His jokes are so bad, Lou.”

Louis sits up straight at that; how dare anybody insult that precious gem of a human being. How dare anybody find his jokes anything but _straight up hilarious._ But okay, Liam’s got a point.

“His jokes are so bad they’re funny,” Zayn mutters, and when Louis thinks about it, he’s actually quite right. Still, he decides to play grumpy cat for a bit more. And he’s got somewhere to be, anyway.

“ _Whatever,”_ he yells. “I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life. I’m out of here.”

Liam and Zayn don’t question where he’s going, only burst out laughing, and Louis decides he’s done with them for the day. He gets into his car and starts the engine, driving towards the local swimming baths where Harry told him he’d be, looking forward to seeing the lad again.

After pestering him for days, Harry had finally gotten Louis to agree to watch him practice, and maybe even try out for himself. Louis doubts that will happen, but he can let Harry dream.

Upon his arrival, he sees Harry’s Range Rover, indicating that the younger boy is already there. Taking one last deep breath, Louis jumps out of his car and makes his way into the building.

Louis’s never been a fan of water, really. He likes to jump into the pool to cool down on a hot summer day, but that’s about it. Swimming was never really something he particularly enjoyed. He’s also pretty shite at it, if he’s being honest.

That’s why he’s so mesmerized when he sees Harry in the water, doing laps and moving his body like it’s nothing; drifting through the water and making the swooshes of it the only audible thing in the huge hall. Louis zones out, staring at what’s visible of Harry’s naked and wet back.

He’s ripped out of his daze when Harry swims over to the edge of the pool, seemingly still not knowing Louis is there. He props himself up on the tile floor and in mere seconds, he has lifted himself out of the water, padding over to where Louis is standing while shaking his wet hair out.

A smile splits his face as he spots Louis awkwardly standing there, and Harry quickens his steps, soon standing right in front of the smaller boy.

“Hey, Lou.” Harry smiles and Louis swears his knees don’t buckle, they absolutely _don’t._

“Here I am, to watch you do your magic,” Louis says, and Harry lets out a chuckle. “It’s hardly magic,” he says, “just practice.”

Louis shrugs and lets himself be led to the bleachers, where he puts his jacket and small backpack.

“I’ve already started to warm up a little, but I need to practice a few dives and strokes. I’m in a competition next week, so the things I do don’t just have to be correct, but I also gotta look good and, y’know, _graceful_ when I do them,” Harry explains with a smile. “So… Will you give me some criticism on my posture and stuff like that?”

Louis nods seriously; he can do that. “Sure,” he chirps, “do your worst, Styles.”

With that, Harry runs over to the pool and flings himself into the water, his head coming up short moments later. Louis sits by the edge, making sure he won’t get wet, and watches Harry do his thing. He does look good while doing it, Louis notices, his back muscles tensing and his hair sticking to his face when he comes up for air after a dive. He can’t see Harry’s legs or bum, but he’s sure those look amazing as well.

Louis gets hot after a while, so he takes off his shoes and pulls up the legs of his jeans a little, sitting closer to the pool and letting his sockless feet dangle in the water. Watching Harry does things to him, and it’s very distracting.

“Looking good, mate!” Louis occasionally yells when he’s sure Harry can hear him, and doesn’t miss the smile the younger boy is trying to hide.  

After some time, Harry swims over to Louis, gripping his ankles with a smile. Louis tries to ignore the tingling he feels on his skin.

“Now I’m gonna jump from the platforms, yeah? You keeping a good eye on me?” Harry teases breathlessly, stroking along Louis’ legs a little and holding himself up by gripping the ledge.

Louis feels extra brave as he cockily says, “As if I could look away.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, letting out a disbelieving chuckle. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis just rolls his eyes playfully and reaches into the water, splashing some of it into Harry’s face while giggling. “Chop, chop! Now, let me see those skills!” Louis commands, and with a quick salute, Harry’s on his way to the platforms. Louis watches him climb the stairs until he’s standing on the highest one, waving at Louis with a smile on his face.

Louis feels a little queasy as he watches Harry get into position; Louis would faint if he were that high up somewhere. But nope, Harry stands there and stretches his arms above his head, and after giving a quick thumbs up to Louis—which the smaller boy returns—he jumps into the water without any further ado.

Louis’ jaw drops as he watches Harry do a double flip before diving straight into the blue depths of cold water. He surfaces seconds later, beaming as he swims over to Louis. “How’d it look?” he asks excitedly, but Louis can only shake his head.

He has seen stuff like that on TV many times, but seeing someone do _that_ in person is just, wow. Incredible.

“That was… Wow, _Harry,_ that was absolutely _amazing!”_

The younger boy has a blush rising up his cheeks as he giggles a little. “You think so?”

Louis nods hastily. “You looked _so good,_ and you’re a super fast swimmer, and just. I’m speechless.”

They both start to laugh, then, Harry looking up at Louis and biting his lip. “Thanks, Lou. Really appreciate it.”

Louis just nods with a smile and stands up, helping Harry get out of the water.

“Next time you’re joining me in there,” Harry comments, making Louis laugh.

“In your dreams, Styles,” he answers and they part at the showers, Louis going to the lockers to wait until Harry finishes his shower.

*

“So, what are the things you’re passionate about, Lou?” Harry asks as they sit in a small diner, eating sandwiches and drinking strawberry milkshakes.

(It had been Harry’s idea to go there, since Louis had chosen the place last time, and Harry thought Louis would feel at home there, mocking what the smaller boy had said on their first meet up.

“How does _this_ fit to me?” Louis had laughed as they entered, and Harry had just shrugged and answered,

“Colorful and cozy, just like you,” which had been enough to make Louis blush.)

Louis finishes his bite and shrugs. “Oh y’know, not much. Don’t have much time because of work and the lot.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows. “You don’t have any hobbies?”

Louis shrugs yet again and smiles timidly. “I used to dance when I was younger, but other than that, nope. No passions, no goals—I’m just figuring my life out as I go.” Louis hopes Harry doesn’t ask further questions about the topic. He doesn’t normally tell people he just met about his accident or his teenage life, but he has some kind of strange trust in Harry. It feels as if he’s known him his whole life, and Louis doesn’t exactly know how to feel about that.

Louis has learned that Harry isn’t exactly shy when it comes to feelings; the boy wears his heart on his sleeve, so Louis should’ve expected him to ask about it.

“Were you a good dancer?”

Louis’ smile falls a bit and he hopes Harry doesn’t notice. Looking at the shiny surface of the table they’re sitting at, he answers, “The best, really.”

A small, sad smile creeps onto his face when he thinks back for a moment—about how good he’d been, how proud everyone had been of him and his amazing work.

“Why’d you stop then?” comes Harry’s soft voice, seemingly knowing that it is a sore spot for Louis, shyly taking the smaller boy’s hand in his.

Louis wasn’t expecting that, but he doesn’t protest as he looks up at Harry, the sad smile not leaving his face. He shrugs. “Had a bit of an accident, so I had to stop.”

Harry takes a long while to say anything else; Louis can practically hear him think. Eventually, he carefully speaks up. “Do you miss doing it?”

Louis feels the tears spring to his eyes and damns himself, but fuck if he can keep it in when nobody’s asked him about it for so long. He thinks about it every day, but it’s been ages since he’s last talked about it. He can’t help but get emotional.

“So much,” he whimpers as he quickly wipes his eyes. They’re in a public place for fuck’s sake! Harry then takes both of Louis’ hands in his, turning towards him so they could look each other in the eyes.

“Hey, shhh. It’s okay, Lou, it really is. I’m sorry that happened to you,” Harry whispers in his raspy voice, and despite the noises coming from around them, he’s the only thing Louis can hear and focus on. “Do you feel uncomfortable? Do you wanna get out of here?” Harry asks, and Louis just shakes his head, taking a deep breath.

He sits up straighter and Harry lets go of his hands; Louis can’t help but miss the contact.

“No; I’m good, thank you. It’s just that I haven’t talked about it in a long time, so it kinda threw me off there, sorry.” Louis smiles shakily, wiping at his eyes again. Harry just smiles at him warmly, taking Louis’ hand again and stroking his thumb over the back of it.

“If you wanna talk, I’m here to listen,” Harry states seriously, “and if you get emotional, I’ll let you cry on my shoulder. I understand it, Lou. I don’t even want to imagine how sad I’d be if I had to quit swimming.” After a short pause, Harry splutters and is quick to apologize. “Sorry, that was a bit mean, wasn’t it? You don’t need more salt in the wound, agh, I’m sorry!”

Louis chuckles at that, shaking his head. “It’s okay, you’re alright. Thank you, Harry. Thank you so much.”

And that’s how Louis starts explaining everything; how he started dancing when he was little, how proud his mum was when he first won a competition, how he traveled across England to meet famous dancers and win even more competitions, how he got picked on at school because of it, and how the kids stopped when they realized how much recognition Louis was getting because of his talent. He tells Harry about the studio and the people he was in a group with, about his old teacher, and last but not least, about the accident and how it all happened.

By the end of his story, Louis’ got tears on his cheeks and Harry’s hand in his, but a feeling of relief in his chest because he finally told someone who wasn’t his psychologist or his mum or Zayn and Liam about it all. He feels so much lighter.

“So...competitions, huh?” Harry asks with raised eyebrows. “Have you won many of them?”

Louis smiles, nodding. “Every single one I entered. I’ve never failed.”

Harry nods, impressed, and Louis can’t help but feel giddy at Harry’s approval.

“That’s amazing, Lou! You’ve had quite the career—done it all, yeah?”

“Well, not exactly,” Louis mutters to himself, and Harry hears it. Of course he does.

“Whaddya mean?”

“Well, I’ve entered one competition where I’ve always wanted to win the prize because the dancing style was one of my favourites, I guess, but I never got to do it often. Anyway, on the night of the show, my mum went into labour with one of my sisters, and she couldn’t drive me to London, so I missed it.”

“What dancing style was it?” Harry asks curiously, and Louis blushes. It’s a little silly to him.

“Modern dance,” he whispers, and waits for Harry to start laughing, or to let out one of his cute giggles. None of that happens.

“That’s so nice; I’ve seen it on TV a few times. Looks very interesting.” Harry beams, and Louis forces himself to stay seated instead of jumping up and kissing Harry square on the mouth.

“I think so, too,” Louis smiles, “but my teacher said it was a little too easy for me, that I needed a challenge, so I was never really allowed to practice much except for Hip Hop and ballet, and maybe a few Spanish dances on occasion. She was absolutely amazing, but also rather strict.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned,” Harry said absent-mindedly, biting his lip and furrowing his eyebrows. Thinking, as it seemed. Before Louis can ask any questions, Harry’s face lights up and he swats at Louis’ hand excitedly.

“I will dance for you!” he almost shouts, making people look at them. Louis shushes him quickly, throwing apologetic glances at the customers in the establishment.

“Harry, be _quiet,_ ” Louis scolds as he receives a rather unimpressed look from the waitress. “Besides, what are you even on about?”

“I will dance for you!” Harry exclaims again, as if that would explain everything Louis didn’t understand before. “I’ll go to that competition and win the medal in your name, Louis!”

Louis’ first reaction is to fond over Harry for like five seconds, before bursting out laughing. He immediately stops when he sees Harry’s face fall.

“Lou? Why are you laughing?” Harry asks in such a sad and confused tone that Louis slaps himself mentally, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“Listen, Harry,” he starts, “that’s a very sweet idea and I appreciate the offer, it’s just that dancing isn’t as easy as it looks like, and I don’t want you to waste your time when you could be doing something else you actually like, like… Swimming. Or cooking. Or singing. Not dancing just to do me a favour or something.”

Harry smiles warmly, leaning closer to Louis and squeezing his hand. “I wanna do something I actually like, which is helping you out. You deserve to get that medal or prize or whatever it is, and if you can’t do it on your own, I’m gonna help you. You can teach me, Louis. Please?”

And of course, Louis can’t resist his puppydog eyes, so he promises to look up some dates for small competitions near their city, and Harry’s huge smile is so worth everything Louis’ got coming. Every single thing.

And he realizes, he’s truly and utterly fucked.

*

“Okay, so here’s the thing,” Louis says as he sits in front of his laptop, phone pressed to his ear. “There’s a free dance competition in Leeds in about a month, and the next one is in London in four months. Which one do you wanna go to?”

“Hmmm… Maybe the one in Leeds? If that’s okay? I’ve got a thing with my swim team after and I need to practice for that as well,” Harry explains, and Louis rolls his eyes.

“Harold, you don’t even have to do that at all, y’know?”

“Hush!” Harry yells over the phone, making Louis laugh. “I said I’d do it, and I will!”

“Okay, if you say so,” Louis says, and he’s pretty sure Harry can hear the smile in his voice. “Now, we’ve both got a car, driving up there doesn’t take longer than an hour, and if it gets very late, we might as well sleep at a hotel or something. Sounds good?”

“Sounds fantastic.” Harry smiles, and after setting up a time and date for dancing lessons, Louis hangs up with a promise of finding the best and possibly easiest choreography for Harry.

When Louis puts the phone down, he sighs deeply.

“What’s up, Lou?” Zayn asks as he enters the living room, planting himself onto the sofa next to Louis.

Louis sighs again. “You know how I always wanted to win a modern dance thing when I was younger?” Zayn nods. “Now Harry wants to win it _for me._ ”

Zayn furrows his eyebrows, turning to Louis so he could look at the small boy better. “How do you mean? _He_ wants to compete instead of _you_?” At Louis’ nod, Zayn bursts out laughing. When he sees Louis’ offended frown, he puts a hand on his shoulder, still chuckling. “Sorry, mate, but you and I both know Harry is far too clumsy to dance _and win a competition with it._ How much time do you lads have anyway?”

“A month,” Louis mutters, and Zayn begins to laugh again. Louis crosses his arms over his chest and puffs childishly, he really doesn’t need Zayn bringing him down like that at the moment.

“A _month?_ Lou, that’s impossible!” Zayn lets out.

“I’m gonna sign him up so he dances with the amateurs, and there are teens from the age of 16 to 21,” Louis explains. “He’s gonna be great, Z. I’ll help him, Liam will help him, and he’s gonna do it. For me.” The last part is muttered, and Louis can see Zayn’s eyes soften.

“He’s got it bad for you, eh?” Zayn asks, Louis just shrugs his shoulders. “What about you, though?”

Louis looks up at Zayn, and shrugs yet again. He does feel something for Harry, but he doesn’t know what it is exactly. He also isn’t all too sure if Harry feels the same way, but he’ll figure it out soon enough. “I’m not good at relationship stuff, you know that,” he tells Zayn, who engulfs him in a tight hug.

Kissing the top of Louis’ head, Zayn whispers, “You’re gonna be fine, Lou.”

*

“What on earth are you _wearing?_ ” Louis exclaims when he sees Harry entering the studio, a gym bag clutched in his hands. “Are those _tights_?”

Harry looks down at himself confusedly, shrugging his shoulders. Louis looks at his black _tights? Leggings?_ His bright orange tank top, and at his skillfully tied bun on the top of his head. “I thought this is what dancers wear, I dunno,” Harry mumbles self consciously, and Louis’ heart melts.

“They don’t,” he says as he looks through a stack of CD’s _(honestly, who uses CD’s anymore?)_ , “but I’m sure you can start a trend. Your last name is Styles for a reason, eh?”

And just like that, Harry’s tension’s gone, and he smiles at Louis playfully. “Ha ha, amazing. Haven’t heard that one before.”

“Old but gold, I’d say.” Louis laughs, putting the CD in and getting the player ready for blasting music. “I’ve found a choreography that isn’t too hard... it still looks impressive to me, though. The people you’re competing against aren’t professionals, so you should be fine. Just don’t fall on your face, that’s the main rule.”

Harry nods along to everything he’s saying with a concentrated look on his face, and Louis can’t help but feel a rush of fondness sweeping through his body.

“And… how are you gonna demonstrate what I have to do?” Harry asks, gesturing to Louis’ leg.

“Aww Hazza, you take such good care of me!” He smiles, making Harry blush. “But don’t worry—I can show you a few steps at a time, and then I have to sit down for a little bit. Parts where you have to do a lot with your feet are Liam’s thing to teach you, but there’s not gonna be many, yeah? Okay, so stand in front of the mirror, and I’ll show you how to start the warm up. Pay close attention, Harold.”

“Yes Sir,” Harry mock salutes, and Louis whacks him on the arm with a laugh, before showing Harry different stretching motions and moves so he can prepare.

After that, they start with the choreography.

Louis first shows him how to move his arms properly, how to make it all look fluid and elegant, and Harry isn’t even as bad as Louis expected him to be. Sure, his body doesn’t have the ideal build for this type of dance—he’s a bit too broad and muscular—but he makes it look good thanks to his long limbs.

Next Louis teaches him a few jumps and how to move on the floor, but he’s got to sit down after a while due to pain starting to rise in his leg.

“You okay, Lou?” Harry asks worriedly as he hands Louis a bottle of water, but Louis just smiles and nods, taking a sip.

“All good, don’t worry. Now, let me see what you’ve memorized by now!”

Harry’s got it all down. Louis does need to correct a few steps and demonstrate a few more times, but all in all, it’s a good session.

They part with a tight hug, and Harry whispering in Louis’ ear, “I’m gonna be so good at it, Lou. Just for you.”

Louis smiles and strokes his hand down Harry’s cheek. “I know, babe. I know.”

*

When Louis considers how clumsy Harry actually is—tripping every few steps, dropping things, walking into people when he walks—he’s impressed to see Harry doing so well at dancing.

He hasn’t fallen on his arse yet, and every limb is still attached to his body, so that’s a good thing. The only issue they’ve got is when it comes to poses and moves where Harry has to sit or lay on the floor, bending his spine and flailing his arms, as Louis can’t show him how to do it due to his injury.

But Harry’s good—of course he is—trying his best and succeeding, watching YouTube videos and figuring most of the steps out on his own.

Louis is quite proud of him. He tells Harry that much.

“Y’know, you’re doing really, _really_ good for a beginner,” Louis smiles as they sit on a bench on day four, eating lunch that they had bought at the bakery next door.

( _“I used to be a baker,” Harry said as they entered the bakery, the sweet smell of caramel recognizable in the air._

_Louis rolled his eyes. “You’ve mentioned,” he said as he looked at the display of sandwiches, “more than once.”_

_“Heeey,” Harry drawled in that deep, slow voice of his, coming behind Louis and resting his chin on his shoulder, making the older boys’ breath hitch. “I was good at it; gotta brag a little, yeah?”_

_“Yeah,” Louis whispered, not daring to move and cause Harry to straighten up and walk away._

_He didn’t; not until they had chosen what they wanted to eat for lunch.)_

“Thank you!” Harry exclaims excitedly. “I’ve had a lot of fun practicing. Even showed my mate Niall, and he says I’m not as shite as he expected me to be.”

Louis frowns, getting protective all of a sudden. “Of course you aren’t shite; you’re always good at what you do!”

Harry smiles widely, reaching over and ruffling Louis’ hair, earning a blush from the other lad. “Thanks, Lou, I really appreciate it. Besides, you’re a really good teacher.”

Louis scoffs, taking a bite off his sandwich. “Not quite, babe.”

This time it’s Harry’s turn to frown. “You are! I don’t know anyone who would’ve handled the situation better than you!”

Louis blushes again, mumbling, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Styles. Anyway, are you ready for Liam coming in tomorrow and teaching you a bit of something?”

Harry nods excitedly. “’Course!”

“Good.”

And they fall into a comfortable silence again.

The next day is very… Interesting, to say the least.

Liam isn’t used to taking things slow when it comes to dancing, and of course, Harry can’t keep up with him.

“Uhm… And then, er… To the right?” Harry stammers confusedly, making Liam exhale loudly.

“No, Harry,” he says with a strained voice, trying to be patient. “It’s one to the left, down to the floor, turn, jump up and _then_ right. Got it?”

Harry nods with his tongue poking out. Louis finds his concentration adorable as he watches from where he is seated on the benches along the side of the room, watching and occasionally laughing at his best mate trying to teach a clumsy Harry one of the hardest steps in the whole choreography.

“Alright, Li,” Louis interferes when Harry, once again, fucks up a move. “Harry here is a beginner”—he comes between the two boys and puts a hand on each of their shoulders—“and he’s doing well, considering he’s a _beginner._ A clumsy one, at that.”

He ignores Harry’s offended _“Heeey”_ in order to throw Liam a stern warning look.

The bigger boy just sighs. “You’re right; I’m sorry, Haz,” Liam apologizes with a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “My patience is just a bit… Well, non-existent, almost.”

Harry just shrugs with a smile. “All good.”

They carry on dancing, and Harry messes up once more before having it all figured out, and they do it again and again, without Harry making a single mistake again.

Liam hugs Harry and Louis goodbye before heading out, and the other two boys stay behind to pack up their stuff.

“So, I’ve got swim practice tomorrow at about this time, but we could meet up here later? And then maybe go to dinner if it gets late?” Harry suggests, and Louis can’t help but notice his nervousness.

He smiles softly. “Of course, yeah. Text me when you’ll be here so I know when to leave the house. Don’t wanna wait around for ya like a fool.”

“As if I’d ever make you wait for me, Lou.” Harry smirks mischievously, startling a cackle out of Louis.

“You’re such a cheeky lad, Hazza.” Louis grins and hip-checks Harry as they walk out, making the younger boy stumble to avoid falling face first onto the ground. Louis rolls his eyes. “How you manage to carry yourself through the world like that is beyond me.”

His comment earns a slap to the bum from Harry, so he squeals and starts running after him, tickling him breathless as they reach the car.

All in all, it’s a good day.

*

When Louis gets the message the next day, he’s seated on the couch with Zayn and Liam beside him, discussing their plans for the next holiday they want to spend with each other.

He takes his phone and unlocks it to find one single message from an unknown number that says:

_harrys in hospital he needs u -niall._

Louis doesn’t hesitate for a second; he jumps up and puts his shoes on, ignoring his friends’ weird looks.

“Lou, what’s up?” Liam asks, concerned.

“Niall says Harry’s in the local hospital—I gotta go.”

“D’ya want us to drive you?” Zayn asks, already standing up, but Louis shakes his head.

“I’ll be fine, thanks. See you lads later!”

And with that he’s out of the flat, hurrying out and into his car, his speed racing, his heart beating out of his chest.

When he comes to a red light, he stops and takes a few deep breaths, willing the tears filling his eyes to disappear. Louis has no idea what happened; he only knows that Harry needs him, and he curses the traffic because _why is everything going so slow?_

He gets to the hospital minutes later, feeling like he spent a lifetime in his car, and immediately goes to ask a nurse about Harry. After declaring who he is, he gets his room number and takes the lift up, walking as fast as he can to find Harry. When he’s stood in front of the room, he inhales deeply and exhales loudly, not at all knowing what to expect. Louis opens the door cautiously, poking his head in and judging the situation.

Laying in bed is Harry, _his Harry,_ with his eyes closed and tears steadily running down his cheeks, the gown on him making him look even paler than usual, and his hand is tightly clutched in Niall’s, an unfamiliar worried look on his face.

Louis clears his throat loudly and both boys jump up, something like guilt filling Harry’s eyes as he sees Louis and more tears make their way down his face.

Niall gives him a sad smile, kissing Harry’s knuckles and standing up, patting Louis on the back as he walks out.

As soon as the door shuts, Louis is by Harry’s side, taking Niall’s place in holding his hand and shushing the sobbing boy.

“It’s okay Hazza, I’m here now, yeah?” he whispers, kissing Harry’s hand and stroking his knuckles, doing his best to calm him. When he takes a closer look at him, he sees that Harry’s got those weird tube thingies in his nose, and a bandage is peeking out from his gown. Louis is sick with worry, but that can wait—he needs to calm the precious being sitting on the bed before him.

After a few more moments, Harry takes a deep breath, turning his head and looking at Louis with his bottom lip wobbling. “I’m so sorry, Lou,” he whimpers, barely audible. “I’ve disappointed everyone.” And he starts to sob again.

Louis gets up and sits on the edge of the bed, cautiously leaning over and hugging Harry as carefully as he can, remembering the bandages. He strokes over Harry’s hair—it feels damp—and kisses his right cheekbone when he can reach it. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispers and holds Harry’s hand as the younger boy pulls at his. “You haven’t disappointed anyone. What happened, can you tell me? Hm? Will you calm down for me and tell me what happened?”

He feels Harry nod against his chest, and with one last breath, the bigger boy pulls away, his eyes closed. “At practice today,” he begins slowly, his eyes still tightly shut, “I felt a sudden pain shoot through my back and my shoulder. A cramp, apparently. And…”—a fresh set of tears run down his pale cheeks; Louis thumbs them away—“…and then I started to panic, I don’t know why… Suddenly I couldn’t breathe and my upper body hurt and...and I thought I’d drown, Lou; I thought I’d die!” Harry starts sobbing once again, loud and ugly and Louis is there to hold him again. “The doctors say I’m not allowed to leave my bed for two weeks. I’ve pulled a muscle and damaged a part of my shoulder blade”—he cries harder—“I might not be able to swim anymore!”

And pain surges through Louis.

The same pain as from seven years ago.

Because Louis knows how it feels to lose one of the most important things in your life, something you wanted to do _forever,_ something that became part of you, and something that has been ripped away from you without giving a fair warning or asking for permission.

He feels Harry’s pain, and he’s sad for the boy he cares about most, so he holds him just that much tighter and prays to God he doesn’t start crying in front of Harry.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I know, shhh… I know.”

Harry doesn’t stop crying for about forty minutes, and when he finally calms down, Louis lies next to him on the big hospital bed and strokes through his curls, listening to Harry breathe. “You aren’t disappointing anyone, Harry. This isn’t your fault.”

“I won’t be able to win competitions anymore and bring my mum medals and prizes,” he rasps, voice fucked out from crying too much. “I won’t help my team win anymore. I won’t be able to dance for you, Lou.” His breath quickens but Louis is expecting that, draping himself over Harry’s good shoulder and shushing him.

“It’s okay. You trying to do something like that was enough,” Louis reassures. ”It means so much to me, Haz. Thank you so, so much.”

Harry buries his face in Louis’ neck, starting to cry again. “I love you, Lou!” he sobs out, and Louis’ breath is knocked out of him. He feels startled, but not overwhelmed.

He kisses the top of Harry’s head and whispers, _“Love you too, Hazza,”_ before rocking Harry and himself to sleep.

*

The next day isn’t any better. Harry cries, Louis comforts, Niall sulks, and Liam and Zayn occasionally check in to make sure they haven’t all drowned in tears.

Harry’s eyes are empty as the nurse comes in to change his bandages and put some cream onto his skin, and Louis completely understands how Harry feels. He just wishes he could ease the pain somehow.

Around noon, Harry’s family visits, and Louis isn’t ready. Like, at all.

When his mum first enters the room, she starts to sob, rushing to Harry’s side and kissing his face, petting his hair, whispering comforting words only Harry can hear. Meanwhile, Harry’s sister Gemma, and his stepdad Robin introduce themselves, and Louis smiles politely.

“You must be Hazza’s boyfriend,” says Harry’s mum next, and Louis’ breath hitches. Is he supposed to deny it? Or clarify it later? Luckily, Harry interrupts.

“Mum, be nice.”

The petite woman rolls her eyes and suddenly Louis is in her arms, her embrace tight around him. “I’m Anne, very nice to finally meet you,” she says, and wipes her eyes. “Thank you for staying by Harry’s side.” She starts sobbing again, and this time, her husband comes to shush her.

“Of course I’ll stay, Anne.” Louis smiles softly while patting her shoulder. “I’m gonna take care of him.”

He glances back at Harry who only smiles at him with an exhausted look on his face, but the gentle curve of his lips is real this time, and Louis couldn’t be happier.

Harry’s family stays till evening, explaining that they are staying at a hotel and returning to Cheshire tomorrow. Louis offers them his guest room and couch, but they politely refuse, thanking him nevertheless. When they leave, Harry heaves out a heavy sigh.

“Thank you for being so amazing, Lou.”

Louis smiles, packing his small bag. “No problem, Haz.”

He wants to turn around to get his jacket from the closet, but Harry grabs his hand and pulls him to the bed. “Stay tonight?” the younger lad asks with wide eyes. “Please, Lou.”

Louis sighs and gives in, of course he does, and within minutes he’s cuddled up next to Harry, stroking his curls. “You’re so precious, babe,” he whispers softly, looking into Harry’s eyes deeply.

Harry’s eyes take a glance at Louis’ lips, and when Louis realizes how close they actually are in that moment, his heart starts to hammer in his chest. He’d very much like to kiss Harry right now, but he’s too scared of pushing the younger boy, of taking advantage when Harry’s so weak and vulnerable.

But Harry wouldn’t be Harry if he didn’t know what he wants in life with such naïve and tragic enthusiasm, and after a few more seconds, he speaks up. “Why are you thinking so much, Lou?” he asks softly, his eyes shiny. “Just do it, yeah? Stop thinking.”

“Don’t wanna take advantage,” Louis murmurs, a tiny bit embarrassed.

Harry lets out a huff, the look on his face disbelieving. “You’re an actual angel, babe. Now kiss me.” And who is Louis to say no to Harry Styles?

He closes the small gap between them and pecks Harry’s lips gently first, before pressing closer and firmer, feeling Harry’s soft lips against his. He feels Harry smile as they tilt their heads and deepen the kiss, tongues mashing gently, almost shyly, and the only thing audible in the room is the sound of their mouths clashing.

When Louis pulls away Harry’s eyes are still closed, a smile splitting his face, and Louis sighs because he hasn’t seen that beautiful smile in three days. “You’re so beautiful, Haz. I mean it,” he whispers into the dark, and Harry opens his eyes to look at him, biting his lip briefly, before surging forward and pulling Louis’ mouth to his again, kissing feverishly and urgently.

When Harry tries to sit up a little he cries out, pulling away from Louis and settling onto the bed again. “Fuck!” he curses, and Louis immediately puts a pillow under his shoulder, soothing him.

“Dumb boy, you can’t just move however you want to yet!” he scolds, and Harry nods shortly, before exhaling loudly. “Let’s just sleep now, okay, Haz?”

Harry nods again, opening up one arm so Louis could lie on his chest. “C’mere baby, need you close,” Harry demands, and Louis can’t help but find that a little hot. A little very hot.

He nestles in and they fall asleep within minutes, right there in each other’s arms.

*

Harry’s allowed to go home after four days, and of course, Louis has stayed with him the whole time. When he finally gets home, he flops down onto the couch between Liam and Zayn, exhaustion evident in his face and his back hurting from the uncomfortable hospital beds.

“You good?” asks Liam as he munches on some crisps, and Louis nods with his eyes closed.

“I’ll manage,” he rasps out.

“Is Harry okay?” Zayn asks.

“Yeah, he’s loads better. His family took him home and he’s supposed to rest for the next ten days, and then come for a check up again. He’s pretty torn up about everything, though. He might not be allowed to swim at all anymore.”

His friends nod and soon after, he’s cuddled close to them, seeking comfort after the few rough days.

“Niall told me he’s also sad he won’t be able to help you out now,” Liam acknowledges, making Louis roll his eyes while picking on loose strands in Zayn’s jeans.

“We’ve talked about that a lot as well, and I told him not to be silly. I’m really not mad whatsoever, I just wish he wouldn’t put himself down as much as he does.”

“But that’s what you did when the accident happened,” Liam whispers, holding Louis tighter.

“I know, but I didn’t have anyone who understood. Harry does.”

His friends nod and they fall into a comfortable silence. Louis thinks about what will happen with Harry now. He’s in love with the boy, he knew that already, but how will they continue? Are they gonna have a talk about what happened? They kissed more often, of course they did, but now that Harry’s out of hospital, will he behave differently or act like it never happened? Louis decides to share the new information with his friends.

“Harry and I have kissed,” he mumbles, not looking at their faces.

“Okay... Did you want to?” Zayn asks, and Louis just nods. “Good, then.”

“Harry’s a good lad,” Liam says. “He’ll be good for you.”

“We’re not in a relationship, Liam,” Louis snaps, cranky from the lack of sleep.

He hears Liam chuckle. “Yet.”

And that’s that.

*

A few days later, Harry invites Louis to hang out at his, and Louis is a bit nervous because he hasn’t been to Harry’s flat often, and also because the boys haven’t been seeing each other too much in the past week or so.

“Hey babe, come in,” Harry greets warmly and Louis steps in, smiling shyly. He sits down onto the couch and pulls his legs under him, getting comfortable while Harry gets them something to drink.

“You been good?” asks Harry, sitting down close to Louis.

After spending so much time in such a close proximity when they were in the hospital, Louis misses Harry’s contact, so in a moment of bravery he takes Harry’s huge hands in his, fiddling with his rings. Harry smiles understandingly, squeezing his hands.

“I’ve been good,” Louis smiles, “haven’t been doing much, though. What about you? You coping?”

Harry nods, looking down at their joint hands. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to deal with… Everything, pretty much. I have the appointment tomorrow, so I hope the results aren’t too much of a catastrophe.”

They talk like that for a bit, smiling and just being happy to be in each other’s presence again. And of course, Harry brings up the dancing again.

“About the competition...” he says, and Louis immediately rolls his eyes.

“Harry, stop it!” he demands. “It’s okay, you won’t do it, and I totally understand. I won’t let you, in fact.”

“But I want to!” Harry whines childishly, a pout forming on his lips. Louis chuckles and leans forward to peck his plump lips, not caring about things such as rejection or embarrassment. He’s missed Harry too much.

Harry’s face softens and he pulls Louis in for a deeper kiss, smiling in between. “’ve missed ya,” he murmurs, and Louis chuckles.

“Same.”

They make out for a bit, but Harry stops it before it gets too heated. He’s got something he wants to talk about, after all. “I really wanna do it, Lou,” he whispers, looking deep into Louis’ eyes.

Louis sighs, thinking for a bit, before giving in. “Okay,” he sighs dramatically, “ _but_ we have to change the choreography a little.”

Harry beams at him, hugging him tightly, thanking him countless times.

“So, when’s practice?” Harry smiles.

*

Louis’ heart hurts.

It hurts so much; he can feel it breaking and tearing apart, and he doesn’t want to know how Harry is feeling. Well, he does know, kind of, but he still wishes neither of them had to.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Louis says soothingly to a crying Harry on his lap, patting his hair and rubbing his back. Harry has to stop swimming, and he’s not allowed to lift heavy stuff or strain his shoulders too much.

“I’ve been doing this all my life, and now... it’s not fair!” Harry wails, and Louis doesn’t know what to say, so he just keeps his mouth shut, and comforts him.

*

The day of the competition is a very stressful one, to say the least.

Harry is nervous, Liam is impatient, and Louis is worried, because he doesn’t want Harry to hurt himself and make matters worse. Of course they’ve changed the choreography so Harry wouldn’t have to do a lot of movements with his arms, and also to ensure that the poses on the floor will be easy for him to do. They’ve practiced a lot, and nothing went wrong, ever—but Louis is still worried, and Harry is still nervous.

“Hey, babe, c’mon,” Louis takes Harry’s face in his hands, “you’re gonna do great, love. Don’t you be scared.”

Harry just smiles sheepishly, shrugging. “Don’t wanna disappoint you.”

“Never.”

The announcer calls all the dancers to the dressing rooms, and Harry gives Louis one last kiss before running off. Louis watches him go with a smile, and he’s glad that dancing practice has taken Harry’s mind off of things in the past week. It has been quite tough for both of them.

Louis gets himself seated in the front row of the audience, Liam and Zayn right next to him.

“When’s this fucking starting?” Liam growls, and Zayn just strokes his hair with a laugh.

“Patience, bebz.” He chuckles.

The show starts quite soon after, and the first few dancers are quite okay. There’s one kid who can’t be older than nineteen, and he absolutely smashes it, getting the loudest applause so far.

“Damn, he’s good,” Zayn whispers over to Louis, but he just nods quickly, eyes glued to the podium.

Then it’s Harry’s turn. The three boys in the audience are gripping each other’s hands, smiling reassuringly at Harry as the music starts. The familiar melody of _Take Me to Church_ start playing, and Harry takes his first step, the first move, swiftly followed by the next. His feet are gliding across the floor, and his face shows nothing but concentration. But then it changes; his brow furrows in confusion when he lifts one arm up, and Louis knows that he’s forgotten the steps.

The thing about Harry is, once he’s confused, he stops focusing altogether. Sometimes he even stops in frustration, because he’s never been good at improvising.

“Shit, fuck,” Louis curses. “He forgot the steps! What should we do now?”

Liam shrugs with a frown, and Zayn looks between Harry and Louis frantically. “You have to go!” he finally lets out, and Louis chuckles, flabbergasted.

“You can’t be serious,” he says before glancing back at Harry, who’s just tiptoeing around, looking at him in panic. It still looks like it was planned. Kind of. “You can’t be serious,” Louis repeats as he stands up and gets out of his shoes and socks as fast as he can, pushing past people and onto the dancefloor.

The crowd gasps, and Harry looks at him with his mouth open in shock, but Louis just smiles softly, albeit a bit nervously.

“With me, okay, love?” he whispers, and Harry nods dazedly, before they take each other’s hand and start dancing. Their steps match every single time, and Louis does the floor moves, while Harry makes the turns and stretches Louis can’t do because of his injury. When Harry goes to lift his arms and do a move, Louis stops him and puts Harry’s hands onto his hips, doing the movement himself while Harry holds him and looks at him intensely.

With the last jump it’s over, and Harry pulls Louis close by his hips, dipping him, and kissing him passionately while the crowd cheers. They smile at each other, and when the applause stops, they make their way into the dressing rooms.

“I’m so sorry, Lou, I forgot the steps!” Harry apologizes profusely, but Louis only smiles.

“It’s okay, Haz. But… I danced again! I haven’t done that in so, so long!” He smiles and Harry just hugs him tight, kissing his hair.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” he whispers.

“And I am so proud of _you_!”

They kiss a little more before Harry has to go and change, and Louis goes with him, making sure Harry hasn’t hurt himself while dancing.

“I’m _fine,_ I promise.” Harry rolls his eyes before carefully lifting his shirt over his head, not wanting to move too quickly. His shoulder doesn’t hurt per se; it’s just that he’s not allowed to damage it even further, or else there may be bad consequences.

About an hour or so later, it’s time to announce the winners, and Louis feels the familiar rush of nervousness filling his veins, like back when he used to compete. Years ago, he was always sure he’d win—today, he isn’t as certain. He isn’t even listening; only tuning in when he hears everyone cheer loudly.

“What happened?” he asks Liam while chewing on his thumbnail.

“That Jennifer girl came third,” his friend informs him without taking his eyes off the podium.

“Second place tonight is a young man who is the definition of a beginner, but in combination with a brilliant teacher and an unexpected turn of events, he still impressed the judges and scored the forty-two points that he can be proud of,” the announcer says into the microphone, and Louis holds his breath. “Congratulations, Mister Harry Styles!”

The crowd starts cheering and Louis, Liam and Zayn jump up, clapping and whistling, watching a surprised Harry make his way over to the announcer to receive his silver medal and a hundred pound voucher for something that Louis isn’t sure of.

The rest of the event is a blur. That nineteen-year-old kid (who actually turned out to be fifteen, oops) won the first prize, but Louis was barely paying attention; he just can’t wait to get his hands on Harry.

They meet him outside the building and Louis falls into his arms, whispering how proud he is and how great Harry did and, _“I told you you’d win something!”_ which earns him a private smile and a hushed _“Thank you, baby”_.

“Where are we headed to celebrate?” Liam asks when they make their way to the car, and Louis wants to answer, but Harry beats him to it.

“I think Lou and I are gonna go home and have a night in. I’m not really feeling up to going out,” Harry announces and smirks down at Louis who is under Harry’s arm, hiding his blush into his shoulder.

Zayn raises one eyebrow and smirks, nodding. “Alright, Styles, you two get the flat to yourselves.”

Harry cheers loudly while the boys chuckle at him, and they all huddle into Liam’s car, Harry and Louis in the back. “You were really great, though, Harry! We’re proud of ya.” Liam looks at him through the rearview mirror, giving him a soft smile.

Louis smiles up at Harry and pulls him down for a kiss, both boys smiling like idiots while pecking and biting at each other’s lips.

“Love you,” Harry mumbles in a raspy voice, making shivers run down Louis’ spine.

“Love you too. You did great.”

“You did even better.” Harry grins before kissing him again, turning his head to deepen it and gripping onto Louis’ bum while Louis pulls him closer by his hair.

“Guys, can that wait ‘til we actually drop you off?” Zayn groans. “You two are disgusting.”

“No, it can’t,” Louis tells him. “In fact, we’re going to start our foreplay right here, right now.”

Harry chuckles and kisses his cheek, before turning to the other guys. “Sorry, we’ll be good.”

“I fucking hope so,” Liam mumbles, and they fall into a comfortable silence.

“So, Harry,” Zayn starts, “how’s it feel to have won a dancing competition when you’re not even able to _walk_ without tripping over your own feet?”

Liam chuckles, Louis laughs, and Harry pouts, all offended.

“I can walk!” defends Harry. “It’s just that sometimes my feet won’t do what my brain tells them to!”

“You’re cute.” Louis smiles, kissing him softly.

“Lads, here we are!” Liam announces. “Off you go—and no fucking on shared surfaces, are we clear?”

Harry laughs while Louis groans, rolling his eyes. “You always tell us that; come off it! Have a nice night boys, _byeeee_.”

And with that, the door to the car closes, and Louis and Harry stumble up to the flat, hand in hand.

When they reach the door, Louis can’t unlock it fast enough, fumbling with the keys while Harry breathes down his neck.

“Can you actually wait a sec, please, babe?” he exclaims, frustrated.

Harry only chuckles as he keeps kissing Louis’ neck, the bastard. “Can’t concentrate?” Louis can feel him smirk against his skin.

“I’ve been half hard since we left the dance studio. Of course I can’t concentrate,” Louis snaps, a little too honest, before finally getting the door open and pulling Harry inside with him.

Harry goes willingly, a dopey look on his face, and suddenly Louis finds himself slammed against the wall, the weight of Harry hot against his back.

“We’re here,” Harry whispers in his unbelievably deep voice, nosing along Louis’ neck, teasing. “What now?”

Louis has to swallow hard. It’s been quite a while for them, and he wants to drag it out as much as he can.

“Wanna… want you to get me naked and spread out on the bed,” he whimpers—fucking _whimpers,_ what has Harry _done_ to him? “A-and want you to kiss me a little.”

He can feel Harry relax, soften, and he’s being turned around so Harry can fit their mouths together. They start off slow and soft, but as soon as Harry’s tongue enters Louis’ mouth, their kiss gets messy and heated, teeth nipping at lips and mouths sucking on tongues.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, baby,” Harry whispers and picks Louis up like he weighs nothing, carrying him to his bedroom with his hands under Louis’ deliciously thick thighs.

Harry sits Louis down on the bed and immediately gets on top of him, kissing him feverishly. “You’re so beautiful.” He smiles and moves to Louis’ neck, kissing and nipping at his heated skin. Louis giggles as Harry reaches his ticklish spot, and of course he uses it to his advantage, sucking on it and not letting Louis push him away.

“Stop, oh God!” Louis laughs, and with a giggle and last kiss, Harry pulls away and looks into Louis’ eyes, smiling. He leans up to kiss him again, feeling drunk off of his lips.

It’s always like this, when they make out. Harry loves Louis’ lips; loves the softness, the feeling of them against his, and no matter how hard he tries, he can never bring himself to pull away—not with the way Louis is clutching at the back of his shirt or pulling him closer by his neck. He can’t resist the needy sounds Louis makes when their tongues meet, even when they both _know_ that they don’t have time for much more than that because the boys are in the next room. Louis is always so damn _loud_ and _needy._

This time it’s no different. Harry riles Louis up by just kissing him, and then he moves down to tease him properly. He doesn’t want fast and dirty tonight, is the thing. He wants to take his time with his boy, shower his body in kisses and make him laugh even when he’s buried deep inside of him. That’s what Harry wants, and that’s what Harry’s going to do, so he has to calm Louis down a little.

“C’mon babe, take off your shirt,” he orders, and Louis props himself up just enough to get his shirt off, and Harry does the same where he’s straddling Louis’ thighs.

When Louis’ body is spread out like that in front of him, Harry can’t help but latch his mouth onto his lovely chest, sucking on his nipples and nipping at his collarbones, making Louis grip his hair tightly.

“Harry,” he moans breathily, his toes curling against Harry’s back. “So good.”

Harry smirks and looks up at Louis while he has his nipple in his mouth, and the smaller boy smiles down at him lazily, before throwing his head back in a moan as Harry bites down harshly. Harry doesn’t want to get too distracted, so he moves down to the waistband of Louis’ trousers, kissing along his happy trail and slowly undoing the buttons.

“You’re awfully slow tonight, Styles,” Louis comments above him, and Harry only laughs.

“Don’t wanna rush; need to reward you for being so good at the competition today.”

“ _You’re_ the one who danced,” Louis points out as Harry pulls his trousers down, taking them off and throwing them to the side.

“Yeah, but I know it meant so much more to you than it ever will to me,” Harry whispers, and Louis actually _whines_ at that. _Jesus._

“Up,” he mewls, pulling at Harry’s hair, “up, up, _up!_ ”

Harry complies and swiftly crawls up Louis’ body, coming face to face with him and crashing his lips down onto Louis’, tilting his head and deepening the kiss so much more. Louis pecks Harry’s mouth a few times before kissing him properly again, then moves down to his earlobe.

The smell of Harry’s aftershave overtakes him, making him addicted.

“Love you,” he breathes into Harry’s ear, making the younger boy shiver. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too, baby,” Harry rasps before kissing him once again, leaving his lips too soon, though.

He moves down to Louis’ stomach and starts peppering it with kisses, making Louis curl in on himself, cackling.

“ _Stop,_ you know how ticklish I am!” he yells, and Harry smiles fondly. He’s so in love.

“That’s why I’m doing it,” he explains. “Don’t wanna tease ya, so I have to find another way to annoy you.”

“Watch it, H,” Louis says, no bite behind his words as he smiles, “or else I won’t let you take me tonight.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “As if you could do that. You’d be begging me to fuck you ten minutes after we stopped.”

Louis kicks him in the back, and Harry retaliates by slapping his arse.

“Get on with it, then,” Louis demands, voice shaky.

So Harry does. He pulls down Louis’ underwear and kisses around his cock, making it twitch with want. He can feel Louis’ stomach muscles working, and he feels smug knowing that he’s doing all of this to him.

Without a warning, he takes the tip into his mouth and starts to suckle, holding Louis’ hips down so he wouldn’t buck and slide into Harry’s mouth all the way.

“Fuck, Harry—feels so good!” he hears Louis moan, and his pants tighten that much more.

Harry works his tongue around and pushes it into Louis’ slit, tasting the salty precome and moaning at the familiar sensation. He doesn’t want to bring Louis to the edge by just giving him a blowjob, he has other things to take care of.

He looks up at Louis with a cheeky glint in his eyes before he throws Louis’ legs over his shoulders and buries his face in his arse, making Louis squeal in surprise. He laps at his hole messily, broad licks with a bit too much spit because he knows Louis likes it filthy and sloppy. Louis’ keens are like music to Harry’s ears, spurring him on to point his tongue and go deep, rough, but still with a bit of gentleness. He uses his thumbs to spread his boy wide open; Louis helps by pulling his legs closer to his own chest, and Harry can’t help the guttural moan that escapes him as he busies himself with eating Louis out again.

“Taste so good,” he growls over Louis’ keens. “Love doing this for you; love doing this _to_ you.”

“Love you.” Louis’ voice is high pitched. “ _God,_ just like that.”

There’s actually a purpose behind this, Harry remembers, as Louis shoves him deeper into his arse by his hair, and it’s getting Louis ready to take his boyfriend’s cock, so the logical thing to do is to get some fingers in him before he comes.

“Reach over to the bedside table and fetch me the lube, will ya?” Harry asks once he has pulled away and is unbuttoning his trousers and sliding them off his legs.

Louis lets out a long huff. “Why on _earth_ do you think I could move right now? I feel like mush!” he complains while turning onto his stomach and pressing his heated face into the bedsheets, trying to calm his breathing a little. Harry only chuckles as he gets himself naked and reaches over to slap Louis’ arse when he’s finished.

“You’re so useless when you’re horny.”

“Blissed out, ‘s what I’d call it,” Louis mumbles cutely, making Harry laugh.

“You haven’t even come yet, Jesus!”

Louis can only shrug and give Harry a sheepish look over his shoulder, and Harry’s so in love he could burst. He leans over and kisses Louis’ shoulder and then his lips, making his boy smile. He always wants to make his boy smile.

“I’m just kidding—love you like this,” Harry murmurs lovingly as he coats his fingers with lube. “You wanna stay on your tummy?” Louis nods dazedly, still watching what Harry’s doing over his shoulder with his eyelids hooded, a dopey grin on his face.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps in a tiny voice, and Harry snickers, getting his hand between Louis’ arsecheeks and teasing his hole. Louis’ eyes drop shut at the sensation and soon enough his face contorts in pleasure as Harry sinks one finger in. He pumps it in and out, and doesn’t wait long before giving him another finger, the stretch a bit more difficult, but his boy loves it.

“Fucking hell,” Louis breathes and lets his head fall onto the sheets, his face hidden in his forearms, as his breaths come ragged. Harry leans forward so he’s draped over Louis’ back, holding himself up on one hand while the other one works between their bodies.

“How d’you want it?” he asks as he pushes the third finger in, relishing in Louis’ keens and twitching legs. “D’you wanna be on your back while I pound you? Or do you want to ride me nice and hard; use me to get off?”

Louis lets out a breathy chuckle that gets interrupted by a moan as Harry finds his spot and rubs insistently. “Shut _up,_ you sound like you’re from a bad porno!”

“Oh, I am!” Harry exclaims, pulling his fingers out and sitting up. “But you love my dirty talk nevertheless.”

The older boy drags his body up the bed so his head is on the pillows, spreading his legs and looking at Harry expectantly. “You wish, Styles.”

Harry smirks and scoots closer, taking in Louis’ appearance as he goes.

His boy looks disheveled and fucked out already, cheeks rosy and lips swollen, but his glossy eyes hold nothing but love from where he’s perched up on the dozens of pillows he’s got on his bed, looking at Harry with a dopey smile.

Harry can’t help himself as he leans over and kisses Louis passionately, nothing but desperation and emotion in the way their lips touch, and Louis smiles as he takes a hold of Harry’s jaw and pulls him even closer.

“I love you,” Harry whispers against his lips, breath labored.

“I love you too. Could we please get on with it now?”

Harry shakes his head while smiling, pulling away and slicking his cock up, pumping a few times before getting between Louis’ legs and lining up with his entrance.

“Ready?” he asks and Louis nods impatiently.

When Harry pushes in in one swift motion, he can only watch in awe how Louis throws his head back in a silent moan, the column of his throat exposed and glistening with sweat. Harry latches onto his Adam’s apple and sucks a little as he waits for the smaller boy to adjust to his size, concentrating on not getting too overwhelmed by Louis’ tight heat.

“You can… move,” Louis stutters out, still not opening his eyes.

“Hey,” Harry whispers while threading his fingers through Louis’ soft hair. “Sweetheart, look at me—there you go. You’re beautiful, and amazing, and I love you, yeah?”

Louis nods shortly, his eyes welling up. _Of course_ Harry would make the absolute sappiest love declarations while he’s buried deep in Louis’ arse, but he’ll take it. He’ll take whatever he can get from his gorgeous boy. “Love you too, babe,” Louis whispers and they kiss closed-mouthed before Harry starts rocking his hips gently, sending sparks up Louis’ spine.

His thrusts get harder the louder Louis moans, though, and soon they’re a sweaty mess, Louis bucking his hips up to meet Harry’s, moaning out his name loudly and pulling at whatever he can reach. He loves what Harry does to him; makes him flushed and unapologetic and wild and _so_ emotional, when they don’t just fuck but—

But make love.

They are making love.

The realization hits Louis hard as he starts to tremble and moan even louder, soaking up the attention Harry gives him and tearing up at all the sweet nothings his boy whispers into his ear as he gives it to him slow and deep; hard and so, _so_ good.

“Love you,” Louis gasps out as he feels his orgasm approaching, pulling Harry’s face to his so he could kiss him, tongue and teeth and all. “So much, Harry, you’re wonderful, baby, so amazing…”

His babbling makes Harry blush, shushing him with a kiss and giving him a small hickey behind his ear. “You close, baby boy?” At Louis’ frantic nod, he continues, “Me too, baby, c’mon, come for me. Show me how good you can be, love you so much, my beautiful boy—”

And with that, Louis is done for, spurting between their bodies and making a sticky mess of Harry and himself. He lays there, spent and fucked out, looking up at Harry with hooded eyes as he waits for his man to finish.

He does soon enough, spilling into Louis with a loud groan as he buries his face into his neck, smelling Louis’ sweat and aftershave, and it’s just so much at once, he feels amazing.

“ _God,_ that was amazing. You were amazing!” Louis exclaims when he’s caught his breath, head on Harry’s chest as the younger boy plays with his hair.

“I love you, y’know?” Harry whispers with a smile. “Thank you so much for being there for me these past few weeks. You have no idea how much it all meant to me. How much _you_ mean to me.”

Louis looks up at Harry, kissing his chin shortly because it’s the only thing he can reach comfortably right now, and he’s in no condition to move. “I love you too, baby. You’re so strong and amazing, and thank you for bringing me onto the dancefloor, it was… It was an unreal feeling to be standing there again, especially with an audience watching. And also, thanks for winning second place for me—it’s even better than I expected.”

“Heeey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Nothing.” Louis laughs, leaning up. “Now kiss me, you fool!”

*

“And five, six, seven, eight—down, down, down... up, then right, right,  jump, and—no, Violet, you’re not doing it right. It’s two steps to the right, not three,” Louis scolds the 9-year-old who only looks at him confusedly, making him let out a defeated sigh.

He hears the door to the studio open and Harry comes in, carrying his backpack from university. Louis smiles at him and claps his hands loudly. “Alright girls and boys, we’re gonna take a short break. Go and fetch something to drink before we go through the choreography again, yes?”

He turns and walks over to Harry, wrapping his arms around his neck and giving him a chaste kiss. “Hey, babe.” He smiles, pulling away.

“Hi baby, how’s the lesson going?”

“Not bad, the steps are a bit hard for some to grasp, but we’re getting there. How was uni?”

“Good,” Harry replies, handing Louis a bottle of water. “I have an exam in three days and I’m a bit stressed, but it’s good.”

They turn a bit to watch the kids in Louis’ dance group run and goof around, some being silly during break, some showing each other steps. It’s cute, really.

Suddenly Louis feels arms around his middle; he looks over his shoulder to see Harry’s face next to his, hugging him from behind.

“One day when we have kids, they’ll be the best dancers, thanks to their daddy teaching them everything he knows, yeah?” he whispers, a smile splitting his face.

Louis feels himself beam as well. “Yeah,” he agrees. “One day, they will.”

*

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on tumblr at loubrator.tumblr.com :) Xxx.


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